


Substitution

by knockoutmouse



Category: Trailer Park Boys
Genre: M/M, Open Relationships, Pining, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knockoutmouse/pseuds/knockoutmouse
Summary: Cory misses Trevor. Jacob is there. Sad sex ensues.
Relationships: Cory/Jacob Collins
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Substitution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dartmouth420](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dartmouth420/gifts).



> Cory/Jacob with some Trevor pining, as I promised to dartmouth420 way too long ago (sorry for the wait!). Hopefully it didn't turn out too sad for your liking.

Jacob wasn’t Trevor. 

Obviously. Because they were two entirely separate people. Besides, Cory totally wasn’t trying to replace Trevor, because first off, nobody could fucking replace him, not ever, that was ridiculous. And second, even if he had been, it clearly wasn’t working. Because if it had worked, it wouldn’t hurt so much. 

There were superficial similarities, to be sure. But those similarities only served to remind Cory that _Trevor wasn’t there_. Sometimes Jacob would say something that reminded him just a little too much of something Trevor would have said, and even though the voice was different, the inflection all wrong, it still got to him, hooked him somewhere inside the rib cage and yanked his breath away and made his eyes sting. 

Once in a while when they were stoned or drunk or both, Cory would call Trevor no _Jacob goddamnit_ by the wrong name, would have to laugh it off or pretend to stumble over his words. 

In fact, it all started because Cory forgot himself. One night the two of them had gotten way too stoned, slumped together comfortably on the sofa watching TV, Jacob’s arm flung thoughtlessly over Cory’s shoulders. 

It had just been too comfortable, too familiar, the warmth and the tickle of long hair brushing against his cheek. It had been so long since everything had just felt _right_ like this.

Cory turned and kissed him.

Jacob’s eyes went wide, and fuck, _fuck_ , he should not have done that.

“Sorry, dude,” Cory mumbled. “‘m just, you know, way too stoned right now--”

Jacob cut him off by kissing him again. 

Their stoned, sloppy makeout session was interrupted when Trinity walked in, because of course she did, because Cory’s life was one fuck up after the next. The two of them guiltily jumped apart.

“Trin, I can explain--”

Shit. Even if Jacob _had_ kissed Cory back, he never should have--

“It’s fine,” said Trinity with an eye roll that suggested she wasn’t terribly surprised. That was news to Cory, because _he_ was sure as hell surprised. “I don’t wanna be involved, but whatever, go for it.” She muttered something else about “just like Dad and Julian,” before leaving the room, which Cory decided to forget that he’d ever heard, because his brain was already working overtime to process everything else that had just happened. 

Jacob didn’t kiss the same way as Trevor, but it was still too damn easy for Cory to close his eyes and pretend. 

Jacob’s wiry arms around him, his intense warmth, the hard planes of his chest pressed against him, pale skin and ribs that were a little too prominent under Cory’s hands. Mouth hot against his own, big hands pushing him down onto the sofa, that hard length pressing into him, too soon and without enough lube, but he’d had worse, and he wanted it bad enough that it didn’t matter. 

“Trev--” he gasped.

Jacob yanked one of his braids. “ _No_ ,” he growled, and it was definitely a growl, not Trevor’s soft petulant whine.

Cory made sure to keep quiet after that, no matter how hard he had to bite down on his hand.

Jacob twisted Cory’s other arm behind his back (also a surprise, but not an unwelcome one), so when the exquisite blossoming of the ache inside him became too much, he had to take his free hand from his mouth to reach downward and seek relief. Cory bit his lip, willing himself not to call out a name, not to make another mistake, or at least to confine his willing mistake to his own mind. 

The bright spark of release flashed behind his eyes and travels downwards, and he managed to grit out, “Ah _fuck_ \--” burying his face against the stained sofa cushion with a wordless cry.

(Against the darkness of his eyelids, a train door slammed shut.)

Afterwards, both of them zipped their pants and pretended to go on watching the cop show on the TV. Cory shifted on the sofa. A dull ache lingered between his legs. This time, a little space remained between them, and they avoided meeting each other’s eyes. 

Eventually, though, fatigue won out, and even though he knew it would be yet another fuck up (but who cared, since what they’d just done was fucked up enough for any number of reasons as it was?), Cory yawned and rested his cheek against Jacob’s shoulder. 

Jacob didn’t push him away. In fact, for a little while, he didn’t move at all, eyes fixed on the glow of the TV screen, a beacon of safety and normalcy.

After a while, Jacob slid an arm around Cory’s shoulders again.

No, Jacob wasn’t Trevor.


End file.
